Hair in the Time of Pandemic

Yes, I saw those posts yesterday about some of you finally "getting your hair did" or else how you now can at last make that appointment to "get your hair did."

Not yet my situation.

I am on week ten or eleven since I last entered--in my own behalf--the premises of any establishment that provides services for one's hair. Gratefully, I no longer have roots requiring touch-up (a time sensitive and messy process) because I have totally returned to my roots and sport a hue created by my own body's melanin...or lack thereof. But the last time my hair was anywhere near this long, I was a true a brunette.

Several weeks back I called my sister Amy because I knew that at one point in her life she had cut her own hair, and I could see the encroaching possibility for such an endeavor becoming necessary in my own reality. She shared her technique and then some tips, as in, have the hubby check the rear view to be sure the back profile looks right and then even it out if not.

Well, that tip will not be happening with my current circumstances.

Sporadically I go walking with my neighbor Sharon.

[Yeah, I know, I know, we are not part of the same household. Seriously, though, we use the full width of the street--she with her dog on a leash and me properly socially distanced, and we switch our relative positions whenever Bentley (said dog) needs to explore odors emanating from the opposite verge. Okay, okay, neither of us wears a mask in the presence of just each other in the great outdoors, but we really have mastered the art of social distancing and neither of us engages in very "risky behavior," spending the bulk of our days at home. Besides, talking to someone in the flesh every few days is probably a good thing for me.]

Also like my sister, Sharon has hair-cutting skills and can take scissors to her own hair without catastrophic results. On our walk a few days ago, she commented on how long my hair has become, and when I complimented her on how chic her hair looked, she confessed she had trimmed it up the night before...with a little help from her grown-up son who lives with her. And again like my sister, she endorses the idea of having someone else tidy up the back once your self-styling effort has come to its best conclusion.

SIGH.

Meanwhile, I continue to forestall any cutting of my own hair, and my hair proceeds in its lengthening process:

Nowadays on mornings when I run, I pull my hair back into a ponytail. Short and stubby it may be, but here I am once again, decades later in my life, sporting a ponytail.

Last week I actually purchased some different hair doohickies for experimentation purposes, hoping to expand my repertoire of hair presentation. On the other hand, maybe I'll just surrender to the ease of production--as well as a cooler, less sweaty neck--and adopt the ponytail as my go-to style.